


Fred is Dead and So Are You

by Beene



Series: The Professor Muggle Series [3]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beene/pseuds/Beene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fred Weasley is dead, but that's just the start. After making the acquaintance of someone who may be a character from history, there's the issue of an interview and what happens after that. Eternity may stretch on forever, but it won't be boring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fred is Dead and So Are You

**Fred is Dead (And So Are You)**

 

 

Fred Weasley woke up, rubbed his eyes and stood up.  Wherever he was most definitely wasn’t Hogwarts.  In fact, it rather looked like the wooded area outside The Burrow in Ottery St. Catchpole, specifically the section where he and George used to pretend to be wizarding knights when they were kids.  George…the last time he had seen George they were fighting Death Eaters at Hogwarts.  It was all so vivid; he was fighting Thicknesse and other Death Eaters when Percy had actually made a joke.  Now he was alone, in the woods, and had no idea what in Merlin’s name was going on.

 

The trees seemed the same, although George noticed there weren’t any birds about, something that struck him as unusual.  Almost immediately after having that thought a series of bird calls could be heard off in the distance somewhere.  Not knowing what else to do George followed the sounds of the birds, wending his way through the trees and underbrush until he found a small circle within the woods; the trees were cleared in an almost perfect circle, and inside the circle sat a black dais.  Knowing that the structure hadn’t been there before, years ago, George walked up to it, surprised when a man stood up from behind the black formation.

 

“Right, name?”  The man stretched his arms over his head.  “Sorry, been waiting a while.  Name?”

 

George cocked his head at the man, taking him in.  Probably around mid-seventies if he was a day, completely bald and wearing very old fashioned robes.  “Who’re you?”

 

“I asked you first.”

 

“Fred Weasley.”

 

“Weasley, Weasley, let me find the right parchment…”  The man ran his finger down a piece of parchment that had been pulled from the sleeve of his robe.  “Ah, yes, right here.  Well, congratulations, Mr. Weasley.  Or do you prefer Fred?”

 

After scratching his head for a moment Fred looked at the man very intently.  “Is this a Death Eater spell?  Am I unconscious?”

 

The man chuckled.  “Oh no, Mr. Weasley, you’re dead.  Physically, that is.”

 

 _Dead?  Really?_   Fred pointed a finger at the man.  “And you never answered my question.  Who are you?”

 

The man leaned on the black dais.  “That’s a little more complicated.  Recognize this?”  He pointed to the dais, and looked confused at Fred’s lack of recognition.  “Aw Bodkin!  Please wait a moment.”  After pulling out a large notebook of some kind he flipped through the pages.  “Well, that’s to be expected.  Right name, almost, right place, but the wrong person.  At least I’m right, you are the dead one.  Way ahead of myself on the other bit.  And not.  Absentiatus spell, that’s a good one.  Have to tell Mifune about that one.”

 

Fred had finally had enough.  He reached for his wand, but it wasn’t in his pocket.  After a few frantic moments he realized that, wherever the hell he was, his wand was nowhere to be found.

 

The search for the missing wand was not lost on the other man.  “Sorry, wand didn’t come through with you.  Now, there’s a way to get a wand, like this one…”  He twirled the wand on his fingers as if he was a baton twirler.  “…but that’s only in special cases.  Most people don’t bother after they’ve acclimatized.  And to answer your question, Fred, my name is Bedwyr Bedrydant.The non-Welsh speakers never get it right, though, so they’ve been calling me Bedivere for the last, oh, I really don’t want to know how long.  Time’s kind of a funny thing here.  I think my watch has been off for the last hundred years, only by a few seconds, but that adds up, you know.”

 

“So…I’m dead, my wand is missing and your watch is off.”  Fred walked over to the man and sat on the dais.  “I thought it would be much different.”

 

“Everybody does.”  Bedivere nodded knowingly.  “You’ve come around much faster than I thought.  I’d even prepared a whole speech, too, complete with proofs and illustrations and humorous passages.  The standard comforting spiel, had that down for ages.  Well, there goes my morning’s preparation.  You probably just want to ask questions, right?  Dilkins had one of those last week, missed two days of work.  Poor soul.”

 

“Dilkins or the other one?  And yes, I’d prefer questions.”  After sitting for a moment he looked over at Bedivere.  “What exactly are you?  You’re a wizard, obviously, wand and all that.  But if I’m dead, and you’ve been around forever…”

 

“Oh, not forever.  Seems like that some weeks, I must admit.  I think it was a few weeks ago, maybe a year, again I’m not too sure, but I had ten at once.  Some group they were, fussing with each other horribly, arguing amongst themselves.  Eventually I just conjured a bed and took a nice long nap.  When they finally stopped rowing one of them woke me up and we go on with it.”  He stopped suddenly and stood up.  “I apologize, here I am, talking shop with you like it’s a tea break back at the Pyramid instead of doing my job. Right, enough of that.  You, Fred Weasley, are dead, something you’ve handled very well, I must add, and I am a Death, here to help you find your way to your interview.  Since this part’s gone much better than I expected we might as well be off.  Ready?”

 

“Interview?  Wait a tic; you said you’re ‘a death,’ not Death himself, right?  Merlin, this is weird.”

 

“Merlin?  You know him?  Wait, which one are you talking about?  So damned many of them.”

 

Fred stood up.  “Right, let’s get on with this interview business.  If I find out that this is one of George’s, and I wake up tomorrow in the flat above the shop naked and painted green again it won’t go well.”

 

 

-ooo-

 

 

As they walked towards the unknown location of the interview, Fred mulled the most recent conversation with his guide over and over, trying to find the weak spots that just had to be there.  He was dead, apparently, and the man walking next to him was Bedivere, one of the Deaths, a series of wizards who helped guide the recently departed towards something else, whatever that was.  Bedivere wouldn’t tell him exactly, as the Death said that it was different for everyone.  They couldn’t Apparate to the location, as Bedivere said that Apparition was a specific earthbound spell, something to do with physics and gravity.

 

After walking for what Fred considered miles Bedivere stopped abruptly and conjured two large, brown reclining chairs.  The older man sat down, pulled the little lever and rested his feet on the now elevated portion of the chair.

 

“Now this is unusual.  Haven’t taken this long to get an ND to an interview since…hmm…Ton Zhao Fu, I believe.”  The Death glanced over at Fred.  “ND means newly departed.  Usually it doesn’t take this long, after the acceptance it’s a very short walk.  But there’s something different with you, obviously.  Even though I know it all it helps to hear it firsthand.  Tell me about yourself; what did you do before, down there?”

 

With the recent events of the battle at Hogwarts, George’s mind reeled.  Before he could even tell one iota of what had happened he peppered Bedivere with questions, mostly concerning the fate of his family and friends, but also of what happened to Voldemort.”

 

“Ah, I think I have a note on this one.  Hold up a moment, please.”  Bedivere began looking through his robes, which held an enormous amount of pockets.  After various and sundry objects had been pulled out and replaced, including a mouse wearing a top hat and a monocle who was irritated at having a nap interrupted, the Death finally found the item he was looking for, a rather large matchbook.  “Here it is.”  He pulled a match out and struck it against the coarse striking section and a bright blue fire began to talk.

 

A quavering voice of undetermined gender began to slowly speak.  “Potter has won.  Riddle is gone forever.  The…”  A puff of smoke rose in a plume from the match.

 

Fred quickly looked over at Bedivere.  “That’s it?  There’s more matches, aren’t there?  Light another!”

 

Bedivere nodded and pulled out another match, but instead of taking the match from the same section, the front section, he pulled a match from the back.  After lighting it he held it in front of Fred’s face.

 

“Hugo Weasley returned from War.”

 

“Oh, sorry, wrong one.”  Bedivere quickly licked his fingertips and extinguished the flame.  “Little out of order there.  Hmm..oh, right.”  He reached once again into his robe and brought out a very small looking fireworks rocket, about the size of one of his fingers.  After setting it down on the ground he lit another match, one that didn’t speak, and soon the rocket was speeding up higher and higher.  Finally it burst into a shower of gold sparks which trickled down towards the ground, but just before reaching the ground they shot back up again and formed the words ‘Congratulations! You’re Dead!’  The Death gave him an apologetic look.  “Sorry, that was supposed to be first.  I’m all out of sorts today.”

 

His mind reeling, Fred sat back in the recliner and propped up his feet.  “I’ll be a monkey’s arse, Harry did it.”  Fred laughed, the combination of shock, extreme stress of his last few moments on earth and the fact that he was sitting in a recliner next to a Death had to come out some way, and it manifested itself as laughter.  After finishing with a series of small chuckles Fred looked over to Bedivere.  “So this interview…what’s that about?”

 

“Oh.  You are a bit different, aren’t you?  Most people just go along with it, thinking its part of the process.  A few ask if St. Peter will be there, others if that’s where their next reincarnation form will be revealed, but they already have an idea in their heads of what to expect.  Honestly, it’s up to you, what happens from here on out.  Every interview is different.  Mine definitely was.”

 

“Hmm…all right, then.”  Fred returned the foot rest of the recliner to its normal position and stood up.  “Is that it, over there?  Down that pathway with the trees on both sides?”

 

Bedivere looked to where Fred gestured.  There, off in the distance, in the middle of the woods a clear path was visible, a path made of small pebbles that stretched level as a plane until at the end a small pyramid could be seen.  “Well, I’ll be.  That’s unusual.  Right.”  He put down the footrest and the recliners disappeared into mist.  “Let’s be off.”

 

 

-ooo-

 

 

Fred whistled as he walked into the vastness of what he recently had learned was the “real” Pyramid.  The pyramid that he’d had his interview in was a smaller version, one that hadn’t appeared in approximately two hundred thirty-seven and a half years, according to the receptionist.  Now he was clad in a very bright purple robe and continued to whistle as he made his way through the different Deaths in various stages of activity.  Ignoring the swaths of furniture and design that looked like they’d been dropped from different era, such as the ancient Mongolian yurt next to a room out of a French chateau, Fred made his way over to a small, scarcely furnished area.

 

“Bedivere!  You awake?”

 

The low bed creaked behind the curtain.  Soon Bedivere, clad in a scarlet tunic and dark grey hose, stepped out to see who was bothering him and registered no surprise to see Fred Weasley standing in front of him.  “So, joined the club, I see.  Purple, though?  We’re Deaths, boy.”

 

“Osiris said I could pick my, what did he call it, raiment or regalia or something, so purple it is.”  Fred leaned over and chucked him briefly on the shoulder.  “And you’re my trainer.”

 

Next door, in what Fred thought looked like a small apartment with doors mostly made of paper, a shadow laughed heartily.

 

“Quiet, Mifune.”  Bedivere looked over at Fred.  “Any particular reason?  Not that I mind, don’t worry.  I just haven’t had an apprentice in a long time.”

 

Fred shrugged.  “Just following orders.”

 

Bedivere shook his head.  “Mmmm.  All right, then.  What’s first?  You have your list?”

 

After rummaging around in his robe Fred brandished a small scroll.  “Right here.”

 

The two men stood and looked at each other.  Finally Bedivere cleared his throat.  “Have you read it?”

 

“Ah, no.  Guess I should, eh?”  Fred unrolled the scroll and squinted.  “I knew I should have paid attention in Egypt on holiday.  Can you read this?”

 

Bedivere took the scroll and recognized the hieroglyphs.  “No.”  He watched Fred’s face fall.  “But I will in a moment.”

 

Fred watched Bedivere tap the scroll with his wand.  _Just like the Marauder’s Map_.  _So that’s how they did it_.  He took the parchment from his new mentor and chuckled.  “Ah, no wonder, boss, first order of business is to get me a wand.  Don’t suppose you have an Ollivander’s branch around here?”

 

Again laughter emanated from behind the paper walls.  Bedivere took out his wand and pointed it at the doors, causing everything to immediately incinerate.  As the ash fell to the floor the man inside let loose a torrent of harsh-sounding words in Japanese.

 

“It was funny the first five thousand times and it will be funny the next five thousand, and the five thousand that come after that.”  Bedivere shook his head.  “Let me get my robe.”

 

While Bedivere fetched his robe Fred had something happen that shocked him; the overwhelming feeling of sadness.  He reached out to steady himself by grabbing the first thing he could find, which turned out to be a tapestry.  As tapestries are not known for their sturdiness, regardless of location, Fred fell straight to the floor.  A strong hand took a hold on his forearm and helped him to his feet.

 

“It will happen.  Goes away soon, but not for good.”  The large man in a silver kimono nodded at him.  “Residual effect.  You are not fully permanent here yet.  Wand will help.”

 

“Thank you, Mifune.”  Bedivere put his arm around Fred.  “Let’s get you a wand.”

 

 

-ooo-

 

 

“Ok, Fred, I thought you might enjoy this assignment.  Ready for the briefing?”

 

Bedivere looked over at his apprentice, lounging in his bed.  Fred’s area of the Pyramid looked like a mish-mash of items to Bedivere, but if he would have known Fred when he was alive it would have been quite apparent that the new domicile was a mash up of the Gryffindor Common Room, his bedroom at The Burrow, part of the flat above the triple W shop and a dash of his father’s office at the Ministry of Magic.

 

“Briefing?”  Fred moved aside the heavy Gryffindor bed curtains from his four-poster.  “You mean there’s homework involved?  Thought I’d finished that when I left Hogwarts.”

 

The older man laughed.  “This is a job, and a job means work.  Can’t just float through things…well, you can physically, but that’s beside the point.  Remember when I met you and had everything planned out?  The answers to questions that you never asked, the comforting speech, etc?  This one’s a little different.  Not everybody meets a happy end, and this one, well, from the research I’ve completed it won’t be pleasant.  Come on, it’s about time.”

 

Fred got out of bed, pulled on his purple robe and picked up his new wand, letting it roll about in his hand.  “Much better than my old one, and that one was quite good.  So, any specific spells I should know about?  Why do we have wands anyway?”

 

Laughter echoed from across the room in the paper-walled living quarters of Mifune.

 

Bedivere shook his head.  “Enough questions, you’re going to have on-the-job training.  Let’s go.”  After Fred walked over to Bedivere the older man took out his wand, waved it around himself and Fred, and the two of them disappeared from the Pyramid.

 

 

-ooo-

 

 

When Fred’s vision was restored to normal he took a look around at their surroundings.  “Bloody hell, is this…”

 

“Let me see.”  Bedivere took out a scroll and unwrapped the parchment.  “The Slytherin Common Room at Hogwarts, approximately, well, before your time.”

 

“Why here?”

 

“We usually try to pick a place that will be comforting, familiar for the ND.  Helps with the explanations.”

 

Fred nodded.  After a while he looked at his watch.  “So…how long do we wait?”

 

Bedivere shrugged.  “We’re usually a bit early, sometimes as much as an hour.”

 

Fred felt the hairs on his arm rise and he looked over to the older man.  “Did you feel that?  Does that mean…”

 

“Yes.  Look over there, by the fireplace.”

 

In front of the imposing, gothic fireplace stood a man in a long black coat.  His shoulder length hair was white, and in one hand he held a silver tipped walking stick.  After examining the fireplace the man turned to the two Deaths.

 

“Why am I here?  What is the meaning of this outrage?”  He stopped short when he saw the purple-robed redhead in front of him.  “A Weasley?  Here in the Slytherin Common Room?  The Board of Governors will hear about this!”

 

Bedivere cleared his throat.  “Mr. Lucius Malfoy, correct?  Formerly of Malfoy Manor and late of Azkaban?”

 

Lucius crossed the room, his walking stick brandished like a wand.  “I demand to speak to the person in charge.  I will not stand for this…this desecration.”  He looked around the empty Common Room.  “I will not wait for that, I will take care of the two of you, especially you, Weasley.”

 

Fred watched as Lucius tried to use his wand and smiled as the former Death Eater realized he was, once again, wandless.  “Bedivere, if I couldn’t have my wand, why does he still have his cane?”

 

Malfoy walked right up to Fred, inches away from him, and with a snarl stood at his full height.  “It is a walking stick, you uncultured miscreant.”  After a few moments he stepped back and raised his chin.  “You are Fred Weasley, are you not?  I see two ears.  But that cannot be, you are dead.”

 

Fred nodded.  “Yep, I’m dead, and so are you.”

 

Lucius tried to backhand Fred, but instead of making contact his hand simply went through Fred’s head.

 

After looking over at Bedivere, Fred looked back at Lucius and chuckled.  “Dead.  Of course, you were a Death Eater, so facing obvious facts isn’t your strong suit.”

 

Bedivere cleared his throat.  “Mr. Malfoy, I know this must be confusing for you.  We are currently in the Common Room of your old house to provide someplace familiar to help ease with the transition.  I have here in my hands the answers to what I’ve anticipated would be your most immediate questions.  As Mr. Weasley stated previously, you are currently deceased.  The order of things is that we will answer any questions, apprise you of the situation and help escort you to the interview.”

 

“Interview?  I need no job.”  Malfoy sneered at them.  “And who exactly are you to address me in such a condescending manner.  I am a member of the noble house of Malfoy, a pre-eminent wizarding family for generations.  I will not have such base…”  He looked over at Fred.  “…beings inform me what I can and cannot do.  Bedivere, what sort of name is that?  Not a wizarding name, obviously.  Are you a mudblood?”

 

Fred watched Bedivere draw himself up to his full height.  “My name is Bedwyr Bedrydant and I was a knight in the court of Arthur Pendragon.  I rode with the King and Merlin before you were even a glimmer in the eye of your most distant ancestors.  If you really wish to compare ancestry you are in for a contest in which you will obviously lose.  Now, the way of it is that you, the newly deceased, are to be accompanied by us to your interview.  That interview will determine what happens to you after this.  Trust me, Lucius Malfoy; there are many ways to spend eternity.”

 

“I will not attend an interview.  I will not submit to questions from some…person such as you.  I refuse.”

 

Fred looked over at Bedivere and saw the resolute look on the older man’s face, but he had forgotten all about Lucius Malfoy.  _Bedivere was Sir Bedivere?_

 

“Last chance Mr. Malfoy.  Will you attend the interview?”  After watching Lucius sneer his disapproval Bedivere shrugged.  “As you wish, Mr. Malfoy.”  Bedivere drew out his wand and pointed it at Lucius.  His words came out loudly and very distinctly.  “By your own free will you have chosen your path.  _Phasma Phasmatis!”_

An indistinct red smoke began to emanate from the floor underneath Lucius’ feet.  As the former Death Eater stood speechless the smoke began to curl around him, becoming darker and darker, rising until finally it engulfed him.  Almost as quickly as it had covered Lucius the smoke dissipated, leaving him almost transparent.

 

Bedivere pulled a small, tightly wound scroll from his robe and unfurled it.  “Lucius Malfoy, you are hereby confined to the dwelling known as Malfoy Manor.  You may not leave its grounds.  For all eternity you are bound to exist in the state of in-between, known commonly as a ghost.  I would pity you, but it would do no good.”

 

Fred was too shocked to even laugh, which would have been his normal reaction to seeing Lucius Malfoy being utterly dressed-down.  Before he could say a word the Slytherin Common Room evaporated, leaving the ghost of Lucius hovering in the mist.  As Fred’s eyes locked onto Malfoy’s he could easily read anger and contempt, but before Lucius could do anything he began to almost fold in on himself until eventually he swirled together and disappeared as water might go down a bathtub drain.

 

Bedivere put away his wand.  “Should have taken you to Annabelle Whipsnert’s arrival.  Much more pleasant.  We had tea in a little shop near Chipping Norton.  Well, our version of the shop, anyway.”

 

 

-ooo-

 

 

When they arrived back at the Pyramid Fred sat on his bed, reading over the documentation that Bedivere had prepared in case Lucius Malfoy had decided to play by the rules.  After flipping over a piece of parchment and reading the heading he poked his head around the bed curtain.  “Bedivere?  I have a few questions.”

 

“About time.’  The old knight conjured a small stool and sat in front of the bed.  “Took you long enough.  What’s on your mind?”

 

“The papers you prepared for Malfoy, did you do those for me as well?  The future ones?”

 

“Yes.”  Bedivere smiled.  “One of the perks of the job.  Clearly you can’t change anything, and you can’t just visit your family whenever you like.  As you are a Death now anytime you would potentially interact with the living they would feel the, what do they say, ‘the icy hand of Death’ about them.  Not pleasant, obviously.  We are also restricted to this plane of existence except for a very small number of occasions.”  He paused for a few moments.  “So what piqued your interest?”

 

“The Malfoy future, specifically his descendants.  Is it true that the Weasleys will eventually be connected to the Malfoys?”

 

“Let me see.”  Bedivere reached for the paper.  After running his index finger down the page he stopped.  “Yes, by marriage.  Your brother Ron’s son will marry a woman who is the sister of the woman who marries Lucius’ grandson.  The Weasleys and Malfoys will be cousins.”

 

“Bloody hell.  Can’t believe my family will be mixed up with that awful lot.”

 

“Oh no.”  Bedivere shook his head.  “Believe it or not, the Malfoy name in the future is not known for Lucius and his misdeeds, though that takes quite a bit of time.”

 

Fred nodded thoughtfully.  Finally he popped his head back up abruptly.  “Are you really Sir Bedivere?  Knight of the Round Table or did you just say that to take the piss out of Malfoy?  That was hilarious.  Malfoy looked gutted.”

 

After a long sigh Bedivere nodded.  “Yes, that was me.  The stories that they’ve told, though, outrageously incorrect.”

 

“If you’re Sir Bedivere, then how come I can understand you?  I mean, English has changed a lot since then.  And how come I can’t understand Mifune except every now and then?”

 

“Ah, Mifune has resisted the language spell.  The few times you have understood his speech have been at his doing.  As for me, I have cast the spell of the tongues, enabling me to be understood.  Right now I’m speaking as I have always spoken, and would be understood quite clearly in my own time, but you are hearing it as if I was one of your contemporaries.  You’ll learn it, eventually.”

 

Fred was silent for a long time, and Bedivere watched him intently.  He knew the moment was fast approaching, the one that almost all ND’s asked upon their arrival.  It was a happy and sad moment, sometimes so heartbreaking that the ND’s took ages to recover.

 

“Bedivere, do you have the future of my family?  Did you prepare that for me?”

 

“Yes.”  The knight reached into his robe and pulled out a very thick scroll.  “Took me a long time, too.  You Weasleys are a large family.”

 

Fred took the scroll carefully from Bedivere.  Before he could even thank his mentor the knight stood up from his conjured stool.

 

“I’ll leave you with that.  We’ll discuss things when I return.”

 

 

-ooo-

-ooo-

 

 

George Weasley sat up and rubbed his eyes.  He knew he was getting old, and dropping off to sleep at the drop of a hat was common, but he never expected to wake up in this place, of all places.  He stood up and looked around, confused.  It was obviously the Diagon Alley Wheezes shop, but it was wrong.  All of his improvements over the years were nowhere to be seen; honestly it looked as it did the day that he and Fred first opened up the shop.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.

 

As certain items whizzed by overhead George began walking through the shop, looking at the items that were for sale.  All the prices were woefully low.  After opening one box George shook his head, as that item had been discontinued years ago, specifically because of all the fuss it caused at different wizarding schools.  He chuckled when he remembered how Professor Muggle had read him the riot act about it the first year Hank taught at Hogwarts.

 

A noise from the back of the shop caught his attention, and he placed the box back on the shelf.  He felt in a daze as he wandered through the shop, eventually arriving at the little break room.  There, to his amazement, his brother Fred sat at the table in a wonderfully bright purple robe, drinking tea.  It was Fred, as young as the day he died!

 

“Fred?”

 

“Ah, George, you made it.  Cup of…”

 

“Love one.”  George sat down next to his brother and accepted a cup of tea.  “So, hate to break this to you, but you’re…”

 

“Dead?  Yes, quite.  And so are you.”

 

“Really?  Dead?  Interesting.  So the shop looks…”

 

“Same as the day we opened.”  Fred tapped his forehead.  “Good memory.  Questions?”

 

“Of course.  Mom and Dad?’

 

“Happily off doing their things.  Saw them the other day.  I have to say, the International…”

 

“Headquarters?  Brilliant, isn’t it?  It’s a castle, like…”

 

“The one we used to pretend about outside The Burrow.  Want your ear back?”

 

“No, used to it now.  So, dead brother-of-mine, what now?’

 

“Well, there’s an interview process, nothing to worry about, easier than the OWLS.  Then it’s up to you.”

 

“What about you?  How was your interview?”

 

“Oh, did that bit ages ago.  I was brilliant, of course.  Got sorted into this job, and I have to say I’m brilliant at it.  Most successful conversions and acclimatizations, wonderfully good with humor and tricks.  They call me in for most of the children, actually.  Horribly sad but fun at the same time.  You should see the fireworks and things I can do now.  I’m a Death, George.  I help people on their way.  Does have a few perks, though.  Learned Japanese, hang out with knights from King Arthur’s court and things like that.  Oh, and I got to see the future of our family.  That’s brilliant.”

 

“Really?”  George hesitated a moment.  “So, if you know the future, and since you know about the Headquarters castle, you probably know about…”

 

“Angelina, yes, of course.  Couldn’t get enough of our good looks.”

 

“Quite.”  George sipped his tea.  “Freddie and Roxanne are proof of that.”

 

“Wonderful choice in names, by the way.”  Fred smiled.  “So, mister wonderfully successful businessman, what would you like to do first?  Trust me; we have all the time in the world.”


End file.
